


The Almosts and Maybes of Dog Days

by keicros_caramel



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Comfort/Angst, Dogs, Established Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Iwaizumi Hajime is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Multi, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Sad Oikawa Tooru, Sad Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sarcasm, Touring, You Have Been Warned, You Should Have Come to Shiratorizawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keicros_caramel/pseuds/keicros_caramel
Summary: In a brief period of emptiness everyone experiences in some point of their lives, Oikawa bit onto the first offer of something new to do—he stepped foot in Shiratorizawa on a tour.>> Ushijima’s dog died, and IwaOi can’t help the worry they were trying their hardest to keep under wraps. However, are any of them actually okay?
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	The Almosts and Maybes of Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Honey is pronounced “loser”.  
> Note 2: Dog leashes. That’s it—that’s the note.  
> Note 3: Another procastination work for my BokuAka fic. Enjoy this Ushi-Iwa-Oi. I’ve always wanted to write these three but, like, hurt/comfort and no sex. Read the tags, enjoy and luvluvs.

He knew it, this would be the death of him.

“...and the next staircase up to the music gallery is called our Legacy Hall!”

He'll die of suffocation inside these white halls, he knew it. Why did he ever agree to that blockhead's invitation? 

“ _You should come to Shiratorizawa..._ ” the text said, “... _for an open house tour_.”

Oikawa pressed his hands deeper in his pockets. The nerve that man had; _he isn't even here!_ In the two hours he and his friends spent in that cursed campus so far, he had never seen any olive hair anywhere. 

“Legacy Hall? What kind of eagle ridge privilege is that?”

“I know, man. At our school, they'd slap our faces on the biggest billboards when we won-“

“Which we hadn't. You two keep your mouths shut, we're not at Seijoh!”

Oikawa cannot help the relieved smile just at the sound of their voices. At least, they were with him. Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and of course, Iwaizumi were kind ~~(bored)~~ enough to come with him; he can't think of anything else that could be great about today.

SHIRATORIZAWA HIGH   
BLDG. C-1 

He had roamed the halls of the building that taunted him with a promiseーa gentle hand offering a future that could only have been and never was. Then, seeing the white and purple uniforms on the Saturday students (that made them look like they're going to damn _prom),_ he coughed at a whiff of the air that met himーdifferent as in it was unbearable at how crisp it was, and he tried his best not to choke at the breeze. No matter how much he despised the place more than he already did before, if someone were to ask him what got him to step foot in Shiratorizawa, he doesn't exactly have an answer; at least no honest one he can say out loud. 

In any question, really. How long has it been since he had been honest with anything? 

_“Are you fine?”_

_“You don't have to worry about me, Iwa-chan! Did you know I just hit 400k followers inー”_

_“It's a yes or no question, moron.”_

_“...Yes, I'm fine.”_

For the longest time since the day he almost quit volleyball, an empty hole lingered on the expanse of his chest. The pulse on his wrists also differed from usual, and the smallest whisper of wind was enough to send chills not just on his spine but straight through his bones. Sick would be a good term for it, though he cannot deny that it is not an injury or an illness this time around. 

It’s a pet that wasn’t even his. 

Oikawa sighed while Iwaizumi remained silent. For the longest time, he felt like the world became the most grayscale it had been. He eats his breakfast and it tastes like cardboard. He cries himself to sleep just to feel something, only to stare at the ceiling with a blank head. He sits during his university lectures and instead of listening, his fingers itched to call that one contact and ask him if _he’s_ doing fine.

In the several months he was a stale white canvas, with all the denial and desperate attempts to recolor it with anything he can reach, there is no denying itーthey’re suffering from the lack of something to look forward to. 

_Huh_ , that can be a half-decent answer. He just had a hiatus from his Instagram modeling for a while, and university had been as boring as it was in the beginning. He just had nothing better to do. That can be an excuse as to why he bit onto Ushijima's invitation on the first text.

He swallowed, feeling his conscience write its Powerpoint on how bullshit that excuse just was. Who was he kidding? Ushijima texted for the first time since the day at the vet. They had to come to see him, in one way or another. 

“Welcome everyone, to Shiratorizawa's Legacy Hall!”

“Oh!” Hanamaki gasped, pushing a hand to slap his longtime boyfriend's face away. “This isn't half-bad!”

“Shiratorizawa had a damn museum in here....?” Iwaizumi mumbled, absent-mindedly placing a hand on Oikawa's shoulder and guiding him along the circular staircase. Reaching for the hand and opting to lace it with his instead, they started to walk up and follow the tour. 

In the middle of the spiral stairs laid a detached tower of glass, encasing busts and the namesーnone other than Shiratorizawa's most successful current students and alumni. As they went further up, the faces looked more daunting to Oikawa than inspiringーstaring back at him as some of the world's elite, gifted with talents and genius that he can only dream of. 

_This is what your will would sound like if you aren’t too prideful for your own good_ , his inner-demon whispered to him. He waved it away like it was last week's rain news announcement.

 _The bottom line,_ he insisted to himself, _is that these people are privileged motherfuckers._ The bust of the 2002 National Fine Arts Competition Highschool Division Champion stared back with a small proud smirk he would give up everything to slap off that face. Then, the 2006 National Spelling Bee Silver Medalist grinned so wide Oikawa grimaced for those chapped lips visible on the likeness. 

Counting the couple dozen other legacies, all their title plaques were embossed in gold and a purple frame, complete with a few trophies for memories kept behind in their pedestals. Then, at the 28th step he counted, they finally reached a familiar face he'd very much like to see for real. 

_Ushijima Wakatoshi_  
_2010-2012 Volleyball Club, Captain_

_To be honest, fuck off already_ , Oikawa thought as he stared at that emotionless face. He had to laugh in amusement, thoughーthe way the bust was set up, it was if these people had been born in the early 20th century instead of the 21st. This cheap-looking brass-colored bust made it look like the notorious Ushijima is _dead_. 

“Oh, you all came!”

Oikawa froze. Dead? He very much isn't.

The four of them looked up the moment they reached the top floor, recognizing the faces they wished to see cry during highschool. At least, that was the case for him. His friends instead beamed up at the familiar voices that came. 

“Oh, Tendou-san!”

A part of him still hated the team as rivals, though he hasn’t seen them past a net for a long time. _Seriously, what's with these well-behaved children?_ he remembered thinking the first time he saw the team. They were everything the words "lucky" and "bizarre" stood for.

“Hanamaki, right? And Matsukawa?” Tendou greeted, waving to the two and slamming happily at their high-fives. “And of course, the setter and ace.” 

“You finally came here after, what, a decade?” Semi provided, shaking hands with both him and Iwaizumi. Oikawa noticed how firm the grip was.

“It's only been two years, Semi. What the hell?” Shirabu sighed, appearing behind the past Shiratorizawa VBC dressed in his current university's jacket. The former setter met Oikawa's eyes and paused. “Oh! You're actually here. I thought they’re joking.”

Oikawa broke out of his daze to deliver a smile. “Is it that surprising?” _Where is Ushiwaka?_ he wanted to add.

“Yeah actually,” Semi provided. Beside him, Goshiki and Kawanishi also nodded in agreement, the former currently a senior and wearing that Shiratorizawa promenade uniform he despised. It seemed the first years were the seniors now, he realized. How time flies. 

Tendou once again clapped his hands together, gaining all eyes on him once again. “Make yourselves at home at our humble abode.” The red-haired man bowed dramatically, gesturing to the rest of the floor. Oikawa heard Iwaizumi give off a pleasant huff.

“We already graduated, Tendou.” Reon sighed, patting their former middle-blocker on the shoulder and turning to Makki and Mattsun. For a moment, the two of them became the center of attention. “So, I heard you two got together?”

“Yeah, read it on Insta,” Semi followed up, smirking while wiggling his brows. “Congrats? When's the wedding?”

Oikawa made it a point to zone out almost immediately after the team showered Hanamaki and Matsukawa with questions. The top floor, if he listened to the tour guide well, is a lounge for the art club. With the grand piano and some artworks on display, he guessed it also functions as a showroom to proudly display their students' talents and works. 

His stomach churned at the sight. If that isn't unfair, then he doesn't know what is. To be a Shiratorizawa student is already a big flex on its own; everyone here is smart enough to get past that monster of an admission exam. Then these geniuses had the nerve to be talented as well?

 _Tch, it's no good_. The hole in his chest ached. If there's anything he hated the most, it's how small he realizes he was in this world that treats elites differently from the ordinary who tried just as hard and did just as good. What’s worse is that Ushiwaka doesn’t have to go through that misery. 

He turned his head away from the paintings and the half-decent sculptures and instead, faced the mosaic windows. Even these colorful glass panes are also created by Shiratorizawa's resident talents, shown by another gold and purple plaque sitting in front of him. A man silently approached, footsteps he knew more than anything.

“We wouldn't have come if you don't want to.”

 _That's what you'd say,_ he thought.

“I know, Iwa-chan, but we're all bored anyway.”

His childhood best friend stood beside him, staring at the multi-colored glass swan in front of them. He wished nothing more than run away, still thinking of what to say rather than _"I_ _just hope I'm doing enough because I don't know what else to do",_ and if he had to be blunt, that's the most optimistic and honest he can get.

Iwaizumi sighed beside him, trailing his eyes at the swan and the way it looked ethereal in the bleak afternoon sun outside. 

Seriously, how talented and privileged does this school have to flex? Oikawa glared at the innocent glass swan as his chest ached in the reminder he cannot do something as magnificent as that. _Whoever made this a maniac,_ he told himself. _Why do you need to destroy glass to make a mosaic?_

Iwaizumi reached for his hand slyly, threading his pinky with his. The cracks in his heart enlarge and almost cried right then and there. 

Because the price you have to pay to create is _exhaustion_. To the point, they started to lose your passion, to the point they started to doubt themselves, to the point they started to break. It's always people like that who create the best content. It's the people who give everything they had in whatever they doーblood, sweat, tears, muscle, and voiceーthat always triumph. It's the one thing he can agree with Ushijima on. 

So can someone tell him why he's still not enough either way? And can someone tell him to stop thinking of what misery Ushijima had to go through to make up for the privilege of being _enough?_

“It's something I cannot forgive life for.”

“What is?” Iwaizumi's voice was quiet but not surprised, his hands only adjusting to tighten around his entire palm and not just his pinky. It was an undeniable fact that his childhood best friend is not an idiot, but he's not a genius either. Neither of them was. Yet, does Iwa-chan know all this time? 

He quickly looked up to the swan's head, sniffing then wiping his tears away. He managed to pull it off into a fly that buzzed past, though all mosaic windows are shut closed. There's just no way he would break in Shiratorizawa, of all _fucking_ places on Earth. 

“Should we go home?” Iwaizumi asked softly, holding onto Oikawa like he would turn into dust at the smallest contact. "Just tell--" 

“Why?”

A man answered for Oikawa. The two turned to the side, meeting eyes with the olive irises they haven't seen in a long time; just the exact ones they came over to see. 

Ushijima approached in dark casual wear: just jeans and some big black jacket. A cap crowned his head and he had his cold hands buried deep in his pockets. 

“Here I thought Mr. Shiratorizawa himself had bailed.” Iwaizumi placed on his best smile and shook hands with the former captain, using the other hand to coax Oikawa behind him and get himself together before looking at Ushijima once again. “Thank you for inviting us...for the millionth time.”

“Ah, well. It's the first time you actually came.” 

They raised surprised brows just before realizing. Iwaizumi's been here before. The statement was meant for Oikawa, all three of them knew it. The brunet in question finally stepped from behind Iwaizumi's broad back, flashing his fakest, smuggest smirk to his all-time rival. 

“Hi, Ushiwaka.” _Are you just as broken as us?_ Oikawa bit his tongue.

“You could have your face next to ours over there, should you have come here instead.” Ushijima pointed to the staircase bust display, and the two made it to groan and look back at the glass swan window. Whereas Iwaizumi huffed, Oikawa didn't try to hide the eye roll that came upon instinct. Why does this man keep saying that? What does he expect him to do? Don't tell me he actually expects them to turn back time and go through high school again?

“Oh, Ushiwaka, go fuck offー”

“I could punch you right now with you subtly telling that we're just the dirt holding Oikawa up, but you're lucky I agree with you,” Iwaizumi interrupted, glancing at Ushijima. Oikawa choked in surprise. 

“Oh, you think so...?” Ushijima pauses, blinking a few times as he processed the information. Iwaizumi froze Oikawa by grabbing his hand once more, this time in front of the man. 

“Yes, I do.” Iwaizumi answered, face tough but hand softly caressing his with his thumbs. He drops the serious face first and bowed slightly in acknowledgment. “It's nice seeing you again, Ushiwaka.”

“Likewise...?” the olive-haired man replied, unsure. He looked around the gallery before turning back to them. “How's the campus? Do you like it?”

 _Your turn to speak, honey_. Iwaizumi didn't answer, relaying the virtual answering machine to Oikawa. His hand kept tracing comforting circles over his, keeping his eyes trained on the window instead of the other two. 

“The art here is shit,” Oikawa finally answered after a few moments of pondering. He turned and made the most obvious sarcastic face he can muster, knowing well how the other man is oblivious to social cues. “Sorry not sorry, Ushiwaka. 'Tis definitely _not_ meant to hurt your strong Shiratorizawan pride--ow!"

“He meant the art is, uhm, sensitive? Right, Tooru...?” Iwaizumi explained, slapping him gently on the arm. 

“Oh? It is supposed to be,” Ushijima replied, voice low. “It’s supposed to make us feel something different than usual.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes in both envy and empathy. How come the world gave Ushijima something to be sad about while he walks around paying for the sins he didn’t remember? 

“Eh. I still think the art is shit.” 

“Is it?” Ushijima quickly scanned the paintings that hung on the walls. The couple watched as he took off his cap and gently brushed the humidity dew off. He brought it back to his head as he looked back at the two. “I think they're quite exquisite.”

Both Iwaizumi and Oikawa groaned, pressing onto their temples and the bridge of their nose. _This man, really._

“Oh, fuck off. They are fucking nice, that's what I meant.” Oikawa was met with a small warning glance from Iwaizumi, who softly tapped his hand. 

_Language, Oikawa,_ his stare implied. 

_As if you don't cuss, Mr. "Shittykawa this, Loserkawa that!"_

He kept his mouth shut, knowing Iwaizumi doesn’t mean cursing at all; it was the attitude to the man in grief. 

“Ah, I'm glad,” Ushijima said, smiling with his lips. Now that he went closer, they can see the glassiness in those usually-dark eyes. Past his jacket, he seemed paler than usual. “How's life going lately?”

“Ushijima, no.” Iwaizumi held up a hand, flinching at the small talk. “Just, _no_.”

“I'm sorry...?” The man stared back in surprise and confusion. 

Iwaizumi elbowed Oikawa beside him, who pouted and avoided glances as he spoke. Speaking as if they didn’t practice in the car, a cough, then, “We're sorry for the loss.” 

Ushijima remained quiet for a while, this time being the one who found the glass swan the most interesting of all. The orange glass panes reflected softly on his face, while the blue ones trained on the duo. For a moment, the glass swan appeared like a saint. 

“I...Thanks?” he whispered, the most emotional Iwaizumi and Oikawa had seen the man. “He's happy in dog heaven, Tendou told me. Thank you.”

Oikawa bit back a response to the dog heaven part. 

The three basked in the silence, in a completely different dimension as the world surrounding them. Perhaps it was just the hole in his chest or the eternal self-loathing gig he had going on, but for a few moments, it felt like they were in a cathedralーfacing a saint whose promises were only meant for those who dream and persevere. The way the sunlight moves past and refract on the glass panes awakened their urge to pay and go kneelーtough luck for a man with bad knees, another with an unholy tongue, and another with a socially inept brain. 

Sometimes, he wanted to ask himself what exactly he had done to deserve the things he went through—what exactly _all three of them_ did to deserve the things they went through. However, every time he did ponder, he wished he hadn't. _He_ can list a couple of dozen reasons as to why he deserved every single fuckery life threw his way. He was rude, he was stubborn, he didn't try enough; there was a lot. But Iwaizumi? Ushijima? They’re annoying on some levels but is that really enough to drag them along? 

Damn, two hours in Shiratorizawa made him feel like dying already. There must be some curse on this land like he used to joke about. His feet wanted to run away, his hands wanted to strangle something, and his brain refused to keep up with reality half the time. On his right, Iwaizumi felt warm as he was a reminder of all the mornings he woke up realizing he made it through another mental breakdown without harming himself. Then, on his left, Ushijima stood still, presence still not registering completely in his head with how different and yet the same Ushijima was since the last time they met on the court. Alas, he felt like these people knew and felt exactly what he had all this time. Perhaps this is why fate brought them together.

 _Huh,_ he paused. He might be coming from somewhere. Back in high school, Iwaizumi used to spike every single thing relatively round and bouncy when he's had a hard day. He can see Ushijima do the sameーthey were the kind of men who will make a ball bounce to the second-floor bleachers when they're treated second-rate. Whereas Oikawa is in the middle, doing the setter equivalent of their indulging with only just one major difference: he would never toss to Ushijima and he never really had any intention to. _Give me a toss?_ Oops, Ushijima, there goes the ball along with the fucks I give.

“I just wished I was the one to put him down, you know?” 

_God damn it, Ushijima. Let me finish hating you first before you go cry._ Oikawa and Iwaizumi took their eyes off the swan and looked at him. Seeing the brief pause of sadness breeze through before Ushijima stared back, Oikawa somehow wished he didn't hate the man too much. If he had to be honest (probably only at gun and knifepoint), Ushijima isn't a bad person, not even as a rival team captain. He's one of the greatest rivals he had ever met, in fact. He got to admit that somehow. 

It's just that, tf he doesn’t hate Ushijima, the next person on the pedestal is none other than himself. 

“Why did you invite us here, Ushijima?” Iwaizumi asked, moving close to give the man a small nudge equivalent to a comforting pat on the back. “Not to stare at this window, I hope.”

After a brief pause, “Well, you did give him to me. I thought I'd let you know.”

“But he was yours, you raised him,” Oikawa sighed. “Kyoken had an abundance of puppies and you _took_ one.”

Ushijima blinked, eyes unsure whether to land on the floor or the walls. “I still like to think it's a connection from me to you two.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, cursing mentally. If it wasn't for Iwaizumi holding him down, he would have run away by now. Either that, or he would have said something he'll regret. How come Ushijima gets to mourn like this but he doesn’t? It's just so, so unfair.

“It will be okay, Ushiwaka,” Iwaizumi said, trying his best. 

“...Yeah," he added, trying not to cry along. They really are a sad collection of almosts and maybes. In a moment of mutual understanding, Iwaizumi opened an arm where Ushijima slowly walked to. Both captains leaned on the ace’s chest, and in a moment of mourning and fear, they released months-worth of anguish through silver droplets accompanying their quiet sobs. 

At that moment, it doesn’t matter who they were or what they did. It doesn’t matter that they’re rivals, and it doesn’t matter that neither of them is doing fine. It doesn’t matter that he’s having difficulty trying to hate Ushijima, or that Ushijima himself is the most vulnerable he had ever been. It doesn’t matter that they just became close because of a litter of puppies—they found themselves right here right now and that’s all there is to it. Perhaps that's all that mattered.

As Iwaizumi held them close on their shoulders and for a moment let their tears stain his clothes, Oikawa watched his pride falter enough to let himself reach Ushijima’s hand and place it right over Iwaizumi’s chest. Perhaps he knew all this time that hating Ushijima is just a self-defense mechanism he learned to keep himself as close to the elite as possible. Perhaps Iwaizumi was made to hold them close and guide them home. Perhaps he just wanted to be held all this time. 

Ushijima was the first one to pull away, hiding his tear-streaked eyes by looking down, revealing the cap’s true purpose. He brought out his other hand from his pocket and held out a black leash, caressing the object as the best thing he treasured after a certain someone. 

“I advise that you stop what you’re doing,” he whispered, pressing his hands and the leash back into his pockets as if nothing ever happened.

“And listen to you?” Iwaizumi replied, scoffing. “You’re just as much of a difficult person as Shittykawa.” 

Ignoring the remark that breezed past his head, Oikawa looked back at the swan. Ushijima’s being stubborn and he had every right to be. It’s starting to piss him off more. 

“You know, Ushijima, we might think alike but there’s one thing we don’t have in common,” Oikawa said, catching the man’s glance. 

“What?” 

“I let pride get the better of me.” He closed his eyes and smiled. At least he was honest for once. Iwaizumi and Ushijima listened closely, all three of them basking under the mosaic one last time. 

“You invite us here after your dog died and you kept acting like you’re fine,” Oikawa continued. “Do you actually think the legacy hall busts are enough to make you feel good again?” 

Ushijima let out an actual laugh. “It’s not just me who sometimes leans on pride to be happy.” 

Iwaizumi snorted, patting both men on the shoulder. “This is why I like your bluntness, Ushiwaka.” 

“Oh yeah?” Oikawa returned the broken yet satisfied smiles with a mocking smirk. “Jokes on you, I don’t even meet my own standards. How’s that, Mr. I Don’t Cry?” 

“What can I say? Guilty as charged.” Ushijima nodded to them, subtly acting out his appreciation. “Hey, Iwaizumi, Oikawa.” 

“Spill.” Even though they already knew what the man wanted to say.

“...I’m glad you actually came.” 

“We are too.” 

Oikawa scoffed. _Seriously, Iwa-chan?_ They watched as Ushijima walked back to the direction whence he came, his back disappearing on the crowd that admired the works of the elite.

He clicked his tongue, gaining his ace’s attention. “I just _can't_...sometimes.” 

“Why?” Iwaizumi whispered. 

“I don't want to see him but I get curious if he's okay. I don't want to talk to him but at the same time I want to,” he admitted through gritted teeth. Ushiwaka will kill him someday, he swore it.

“Ah, Tooru. You're going to lead a very sad life.” 

“Yeah, well. You know,” he said as they turned and walked away. “We’re not the happiest kind of people anyway.” 

“Damn right.” Iwaizumi held up a fist, and with the remains of his energy, he bumped it and sighed. “Don’t worry, I think Ushijima’s going to be fine.” 

He better be. He didn’t endure Shiratorizawa for two hours for nothing. 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> You're much more important than your mistakes. No one else knows what they're doing either.


End file.
